Affection in Hexagons
by cirilee
Summary: ENGLISH VERSION for "Vierecksverhältnis": Moe needs more money and finds a most unusual way of getting it, which gets him into trouble of course, Smithers is partly responsible, but can't help, because of Mister Burns, Lenny and Carl have conflicting feelings for each other, and Barney just wants to make Moe happy - what will happen? who will end up with who? read on!
1. Chapter 1

As always, nothing much was going on down at Moe's.

Long ago had the walk-in costumers returned to the safety of their happier life, and a short time ago even the husbands had gradually begun to retreat. There had still remained two or three regulars after that, but now, finally, Moes clientele had melted down to it's quintessential and most persistent core.

"Still here, Barney?"

It was a rhetorical question, Moe knew that the one spoken to had long since went to a place of fulfilled dreams and illogical happiness.

But nevertheless, the bartender got an answer, much to his surprise.

"I'll go ... just let me stay for about ... another minute ... or so ... I swear ... ", choked the semi-conscious Barney and made no great effort to suppress the following belch.

Moe only nodded, more to himself than anyone else, and weary sarcasm was written all over his face, as he wiped the same old filthy counter with the same old filthy rag.

And as he did so, slowly, all too familiar dark thoughts began to insidiously creep their way into his brain cells. He barely even noticed that his mood grew quickly from his usual slight melancholic feelings to a deep depression.

How many hours, days, months, years, how many countless times had he already sat behind this counter and had wiped with an old rag over it in the most sloppy manner? And most importantly, how was he going to continue this seemingly infinite loop, safe in the knowledge that he had no kindred spirit, to look forward to be with, when he finally got home?

He had to admit, the stages of his depression were still changeable, but if they once fell deep, they fell as deep as the cracks in the walls of his bar.

If only there would be someone, something ... he had tried so many times to start _something_ with a woman; and now, these days, he was almost certain he could switch to a man, just for the sake of not being alone anymore. Moreover, after the experiment with this Mister Smithers a few weeks ago, he at least knew that a kiss such as this, felt rather OK - and everything else would surely unfold itself with time.

_But even in the gay scene, I'd still be the same old troll. With the same fish snout, and gorilla face and much too unappealing figure. Accept it, Moe, you were never destined to be on this earth after all, if there isn't even one single little person that fits your qualifications._

Moe had a feeling, that talking would distract him from his steadily thicker becoming swamp, that was the conglomerate of his mind. He wanted to avert himself from getting not very well-thought-of ideas.

Somewhat distraught, he turned his gaze to Barney and was surprised to meet a pair of wide awake eyes.

"Shouldn't ya be lying on the ground, unconscious?," asked Moe, clearly surprised.

It took Barney a while, but at last he spoke, although a bit unsteady, and the bartender had the strange impression that his condition did not come from his mass consumption of beer that night.

* * *

There was nothing wrong in particular with Barney, as always.

He had woken up at twelve'o'clock, had made a short trip by helicopter whilst saving a child's life, as it had nearly fell to it's death, by accidentally plunging out of an unattended window; was afterwards invited for dinner in an italian restaurant by the mother of mentioned child; he helped Homer unearth a treasure on Mount Springfield and then finally shot another art film, with little Lisa and a few other scouts.

But even though Barney had received a medal of honor, a 12-carat gold amulet and an Emmy for all of his deeds on that day, at exactly seventeen'o'clock, he again had returned to Moe's as if it were another, eventful and unsuccessful day of his strange existence.

And, of course, every common idiot could come up with the idea, that the beer was the obvious reason for Barney's daily recurrence at the tavern.

But lately Barney harbored a different theory. Because he still kept sober most of the evenings, and recently he had even managed to restrict his coffee addiction a little. In the last few days, he had visited the bar for no apparent reason and had usually limited himself to one single beer.

But this day was different. On this day he once again had had a booze-up, just like in the old days, _but_ for a good reason.

To be able, to reveal the things that he wanted to reveal this evening, it took a large amount of Duff beer. An enormous amount.

And now the time had finally come, he presumed.

Now Moe had begun to stare at him, confused and somewhat uncertain, and the bar was as good as empty.

Right now.

But somehow _now_ did not happen.

And all that was left for Barney to do, was to continue to stare at this increasingly frantic face of _his_ bartender, of _his_ best friend, with both of them having not the slightest idea what was going on behind the forehead of the other.

"Moe," Barney began at last.

"Mr Szyslak -!", he was interrupted.

* * *

Nothing wrong with Waylon Smithers. As always.

It had been a rough day, and a new best day of his life at the same time. At least, until the moment where all his hopes, ambitions and dreams all went down the drain.

Twenty years he had occupied himself with a somewhat cautious approach - and all this was now gone, with three simple words.

"You are fired", Mister Burns had said. Very quietly and coldly. And unfeeling. Waylon had felt like the teeth of a few hundred hounds were caught in his chest and they had not intended to let go. And now, after a few hours of mindlessly wandering the streets of Sprinfield, now, he still felt that way.

And all because of those stupid love letters. Waylon had always assumed that Mr. Burns knew of his ... "choice of lifestyle". After all, it was the worst kept secret in Springfield, and even if it weren't, Waylon knew, he wasn't always this careful with his behaviour.

But on the other hand, he could still understand, why his former boss would react in such a way, after accidentally coming across one of Waylon's many unsent love letters. The old man had grown up in other times, and he simply was allergic to human feelings. To Mister Burns' imagination it might have seemed uncomfortable to know that Waylon knew what he knew and maybe he just wanted to avoid embarrassing situations during working hours.

Either way, Waylon knew that soon, he would no longer be able to reflect on the various reasons of his dismissal so clearly. Soon, anger, hatred, despair, grief, and finally a depression, persisting for months, would show their ugly faces. He knew how he had felt when Mister Burns was shot.

Within only a few days he had become a wreck, from the inside as well as from the outside and he shivered miserably at the thought of having to return to that state.

And before he realized it, his steps had directed him along a certain road.

Waylon's face was dimly lit up by the flickering lights of the sign above him, the sign that said "Moe's" in big faint red letters and he remembered the time he had spent together with the owner of this establishment. Actually not too bad a time, when he quickly reflected on it. Although, it had cost some time to get used to Szyslak's stubborn nature and his exceptionally bad habit of being able to do just anything for money. And then there was this unexplained kiss ...

A little shaky, he glanced at his watch and was surprisingly only mildly shocked. One'o'clock was a personal record minimum time under the given circumstances. The last time he had got fired, he hadn't found the way home and had eventually stayed in a cardboard box.

The face of his watch now dimly reflected the red light above him and Waylon suddenly got a strange idea for an even stranger plan.

It was weird, crazy and doomed to fail.

But he could always try, couldn't he?

* * *

Nothing interesting going on at C. Montgomery Burns' manor.

And that was not usual.

Now, at one'o'clock, Burns had finally managed to tuck himself in with his blanket. It had been an ordeal to him, that had seemed to require inhuman strength, and he did not intend to repeat it the next night.

A replacement for Smithers was desperately needed, and it had to happen fast.

Unfortunately, the word "_replacement_" (which the new Smithers would ultimately be) suddenly got a strange sound to it. It left an uneasy feeling in Burns and echoed ominously in his skull after thinking it.

He mused for a while about it, hoping that there could be another explanation for these circumstances, besides sudden remorse because of Smithers' all too sudden dismissal, but he couldn't find one.

Thus sighing, he directed his thoughts to his now former assistant.

Of course he knew what was "cooking" regarding Smithers. And precisely because of that it had been so much fun, to expose Smithers at every opportunity, to humiliate and oppress him. And of course, trample on his feelings too, without dispensing even a hint of pity or empathy.

Over the years, this massive help in reducing his hidden aggressions, had made all appointments with psychiatrists redundant and thus had also helped Burns to save a lot of money. Smithers submitted his entire devotion to Burns, who then it return exploited and stomped on it as best he could.

But if Smithers and he had made a clean sweep, as it had now accidentally (and unfortunately) happened - Burns was certain, that the fun would have ended then and there.

And these love letters really had been the pinnacle of idiocy. A powerful man like Mister Burns had no use for a wimp such as this in his drone army.

"Captivating rose that never wilts ..."

"Noble owl that never sleeps ..."

Such feeblemindedness ...!

...

Of course it would be hard to have to find a replacement now.

Yes, and even if Burns found a suitable replacement, it would take months to form a human mind in a way that was sufficient.

And even _then_, this replacement would never be as dedicated as Smithers was. No other living being in the entire city, if not in all of America, if not the world, _loved_ him.

For crying out loud, on whose feelings could Mister Burns now trample, without having to worry about any consequences?

Yes. That was it, exactly. Burns needed a lapdog, that was all.

Never would he be foolish to such an extent, to actually develop _feelings_ of _friendship_ for this young, talented, passionate man he had already held as baby in his arms, had drove to school as a child, had helped as a teenager in his career choice and in fact, over the years, had received as his personal assistant, since that lad had become a young man. But all of that didn't matter, even if Smithers had sold his life twice to Burns. Never, and not at any time would there ever be a time of reciprocating between them.

And with this firm conviction Burns finally managed to fall asleep.

It was not about feelings.

It was about reobtaining possessions.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mister Smithers ... What brings you here? " Moe looked surprised, but not all too surprised.

In a rather conspiratorial way, he leaned over the bar to whisper to Waylon, "You do know that my bar isn't anymore a bar for ... the likes of you ...? "

For a moment, Waylon remained confused, but eventually he separated himself from the troll-like man in front of him. With a shortspoken expression on his face he replied: "Yes, I do know that"

"Then what else could you want here?", Moe answered tersely.

"Hey, Moe, who's your friend?", Barney interjected.

Waylon produced a slight sanctimonious smile while listening to the completely befuddled voice of Moe's only remaining customer. Every other chair was empty or still dirty, or as the case may be, spilled with beer. Waylon wondered if Moe really didn't long for the days to be back, the days when this establishment had been called "Mo's" and had been cleaner than never before. At least Waylon knew, that he did.

Nevertheless, he did find a stool, looking comfortable enough to sit in and finally sat down.

Meanwhile, Moe had managed to refresh Barney's memory on Waylon's identity and turned his diffuse gaze back to his latest costumer so far.

"Very well then ... you don't wanna tell me what caused you to visit my rathole, but the least thing you can do is to order something!", he complained grumpily and Waylon didn't hesitate to nod in approvement.

"One whiskey please, and ...", he hesitated, " ... and furthermore, I'm here to ask if you might needed, I dunno, maybe needed a waiter? "

"Whaaaat?", Moe and Barney mumbled in unison.

"Yes, well, I got fired today, and -"

Waylon stopped abruptly. Both their faces began to get the better of him, and he slowly lowered his head. Maybe it wasn't a good plan after all.

Oh well. It still was his _only_ plan.

"Listen, Mister Szyslak, I desperately need a job!", he finally said.

The addressee slowly shook his head. "Impossible! What could come over old Burns, that he'd let go of his most loyal bootlicker? "

Waylon felt his cheeks reddening, but not because of Moe's outrageous insult, but because of the sole mention of his bosses name. He missed him already. Normally at this time Waylon would lie in bed, knowing that he could look forward to a new next day, working with his crush and never leaving his presence. Now the only thing he was sure of, was the effect this whiskey would have on him, this glass that Moe had presented him.

"That old Burns wants to spy on me, doesn't he? Tell him that I don't have his stinkin' panda fur and that he won't get it!", Moe had hissed in the meantime.

"It has nothing to do with your illegal businesses ...!", Waylon assured him, slightly impatient, "I was fired because-", he searched his mind for a good excuse; he still wasn't all too comfortable with confessing his sexuality in public, " ... because I wanted to take a week off "

Yes, that sounded like a thing Burns would react negatively to.

Moe seemed to have the same opinion. Nevertheless, he insisted, "If you really want to work in my bar, you have to be satisfied with what you'll earn - and that's not much. And you als have to be a woman."

Waylon persisted, "I'll be very satisfied with what you pay me. I don't have to pay a rent for my apartment, I already own it, and I still live alone. I'm sure I'll be able to get something to eat for one person every day. And as for the last point, I'm -"

Waylon bit his tongue. He could not believe what he had wanted to put forward as an argument. He shook his head wildly. "What I mean is, the last request is ridiculous and sexist. Do you really intend to let me starve in my appartment, alone and with nothing to live for, just because I'm a man?"

"Yes." Moe replied snippy, and said nothing for a while. Then reality crashed in on him. Could this be his last chance? He had just been thinking about the kiss between the two of them, and now all of a sudden that exact man he had shared this kiss with, rushed into his rathole and wanted to apply for a job? Admittedly, it sounded ridiculous enough. Smithers and Moe.

Maybe it was at least worth one try.

"I mean no."

He shook Waylon's hand with a patronizing grin paving his face.

"Mister Smithers, you are hired"

"Whaaaat?", Barney slurred.

That was all going on in his head at this moment. An eternal progression of bewildered exclamations. Never in Barney's life had Moe needed an assistant waiter, especially a _male_ assistant waiter. What made this Smithers so extraordinarily special that he was hired immediately?

If the game of life would be played after rules that would actually follow common logic, Barney would have been hired as a waiter at Moe's years ago!

But he wasn't, and all that was left for him to do, was to silently watch as Smithers and Moe shook hands and then arranged working hours.

"I need anotha' beer!" Barney finally exclaimed, because that was all that he could speak out loud about this situation. For once in an eternity Barney had wanted to make a clean sweep, and suddenly an ordinary lap dog ruined _his_ night!

"That will be all, I guess", sighed Waylon and downed his whiskey. Now he just had to draw Mister Burns' attention to him, and somehow his crazy plan would work.

He turned to the exit, when it suddenly occured to him, that at one'o'clock in the morning, pubs like this were normally already closed for hours.

All at once it struck him as odd that he had found these two men at this ungodly time, all alone. Was that normal for them?

But with a simple shrug, he accepted it. He would occupy himself with Szyslak's privacy early enough in the next morning. That night he wanted to keep his head as clear as possible.

"Good night, Mister Szyslak", he said to the bartender respectfully, put two dollars on the counter and slipped through the door.

However, as he passed the last stained glass window of the bar, he couldn't prevent himself from overhearing Moe's scratchy voice, boasting with pride, "Did you hear that, Barney ? I'm _Mister Syzlak_! No one has ever treated me with this much respect since I threatened that Jimbo kid with a knife! "

This time, it didn't take long for the boozehound to response: "And we'll still call you Moe, even if you hire twenty more of Burns' bootlickers! "

Waylon rolled his eyes, even though, in amusement. His original plan had been to get hired by Moe, then engage him in a romance, then make Mister Burns somehow jealous. But he had to admit that this plan was a little bit too rudimentary for his taste.

And even if he would really be boneheaded enough to consider going for this plan, he wouldn't be able to break Moe's heart this easily. From what he heard about the bartender's state of mind, he assumed it would be a very bad idea. Furthermore, he didn't really think he could love anyone but Mister Burns. For years now he had yearned for no one other, he wouldn't be able to pull off a role like this.

There had to be another way to make Burns jealous. Maybe he could just straight out be honest with Moe and let him in on the whole thing. For a few dollars worth of a reward - yes, exactly, that was it! A greedy man like Moe would always be open for such schemes, that man would sell himself for money!

Without realizing it, Waylon grinned from ear to ear. He couldn't believe that in this delusional state he had _actually_ wanted Moe to fall in _love_ with him - ridiculous! Not even Moe could be so desperate. And neither Waylon. No, this plan was much better. Waylon knew of his own value as a personal assistant and door mat. Never in one lifetime would Burns be able to find such a literal lap dog like him. And when said desperately sought-after lap dog would then also be seen in other hands, it would certainly cause the volcano to erupt.

Of course, to pay for Moe would cost a lot, but after all, he had created an emergency savings account years ago.

And this was nothing less than an emergency. Without Mister Burns, suicide was his only other option, and so far he did not want to go _that_ far.

With a soft smile, and sort of unsteady on his feet, he staggered his way home and finally disappeared into the darkness of the streets of Springfield.

* * *

Meanwhile, Barney layed flat on the counter and wondered if it was still not too late for his wish to make a clean sweep with Moe.

With his restless gaze, he stared at the bartender.

"Ahhh, Barney", Moe sighed, and suddenly sounded tired and even a little friendly, "I know exactly what you need"

He paused for a moment, and Barney cursed himself for getting his hopes up, after hearing Moe continue: "I'll get ya anotha' Duff"

_No, you Idiot_, Barney thought.

"Yes, you idiot", he replied, "but I don't have any money no more ... ! "

"Well, I wanted to throw you out long ago anyway!", Moe croaked indifferently, and once again, his old shotgun was targeted at a spot between Barney's eyes .

"Is that really necessary ...?", Barney asked.

"Yes", Moe shouted, "I still gotta get to my apartment this night!"

Barney smiled. Finally, something to keep the conservation running for another while. With an elaborate smile he accused, "That's not true and you damn well know it! "

The bartender winced a little, but did not lower his weapon.

"What are you talkin' about, you're drunk! Of course I have my appartment!"

"Then why haven't you closed earlier, to get to it?", Barney countered.

For a while the two remained silent.

But eventually Barney gave up, "Moe, I can understand that you don't want to talk about having to spend the night in the ladie's room"

"Hey, I don't sleep in the ladies room! You know that, that's my office!", Moe replied sharply. "I sleep in the beer cellar ... "

"If you have problems of any sort, you know you can move in with me"

"We had this argument before. I will not abate your debts, just because you give me a nice bed with a soft mattress, a clean blanket with roach- free pillows-", he stopped aprubtly and didn't continue.

A smile spread on Barney's face, "Do you think $ 45 for a night is fair enough?"

"That's twice the debt you get into for_ one night_ at my bar!", Moe shouted.

"45 bucks or you can sleep on a comfortable, cold beer barrel. Your choice!"

Moe bared his teeth, but finally agreed reluctantly.

Meanwhile, Barney realized that he probably shouldn't look so happy about Moe, going to stay with him. But nevertheless he couldn't contain his glee. Maybe this was the one decisive step to happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Barney didn't know if Moe had actually spended the night with him, or whether he had just dreamt that, due to his enormous alcohol consumption.

But one look into his living room reassured him in his sense of delight, and within minutes he wasn't able to supress his shaky smile any longer.

The scrawny bartender had fit all too easily on Barney's oversized couch and was now laying fast asleep on his back, his limbs stretched out, as if he were dead. And although that thought caused Barney to hastily check Moe's heartbeat (just in case), nevertheless, this image of his dear friend, finally at peace, also had a somewhat soothing effect on him. Never before had Moe looked so vulnerable and Barney felt the same cloudy fuzziness, where he usually only felt the thirst for more alcohol.

He liked Moe, he had already admitted it to himself, but he could not say that he loved him, before he had not talked to Moe about it in person.

Anxiously careful not to wake Moe earlier than was necessary, he shuffled into the kitchen and found out that it was still only 7:30. Hence he was able to lie down again quietly. His helicopter trips normally began in two to three hours at worst, depending on whether he was needed.

He would make breakfast later with the little money he had, there was still time, and while slowly dozing off again, he hoped there would be a way out of his love sickness, as long as Moe and he could talk alone, undisturbed.

* * *

"What was your name again?"

Mr. Burns didn't like the idea of a total stranger tucking him in at night one bit, but as long as there was the slightest chance of another Smithers running around in his power plant, he would have to keep hearing out the job applicants.

"Simpson, Sir. Homer Sim-"

"Enough gibberish, Simpson's perfectly fine for me!", interjected Burns sullenly and walked around his desk to stand still in front of his employee and he began to stare deep into this subject's eyes. He simply could not shake the biting notion of having already met this man before.

"Do tell, could it be, that I maybe swore on my life to make your life a conglomeration of misfortune?", he asked, rather casually.

"Uh ... um ... no", Homer's eyes avoided Burns's piercing gaze as best as they could and instead appraised along the ceiling.

Meanwhile, his boss was now completely convinced of him and Simpson, having already met, but in what particular incident, he could not recall, by no stretch of his imagination. And such obscure characters he could not stand, not even if he would get paid for it.

Perhaps the man was indeed not suitable for the job. After all, the replacement would have to be around Burns all day long for the fulfillment of a few 2800 chores and Burns wanted no person constantly around him, which he deemed suspect.

"Why do you want to be my assistant?", he finally demanded.

Homer began to get nervous now. He almost would have said "for more money", but for that to happen he was way too smart.

"I want to increase my net income by 50 percent", he said instead, proud to have mastered this sentence, without misspeaking.

Burns kept silent for a moment, staring down the long table coolly, then right into the rapidly more nervous face of the man who had introduced himself as _Simpson_, until that very man was pulled away vertically and merely able to exclaim a faint "D'oh!", before being swallowed whole by the endless depths of the trap door beneath him.

The long drawn-out cry of his employee, which slowly but surely grew quieter, until a crash was heard in some depth, amused Burns, but only for a while.

Because then the gist of this last audition finally crashed into Burns' head.

"It's hopeless", he growled to himself. "I will look for Smithers!"

Of course that went against each of his personal laws. The love letter he had found on this man's desk had given him not only the third-biggest fright of his life, but it had also forced him to open his eyes, and to "_be considerate_" of Smithers' "_feelings_" - natural urges he had not given into, of course, but still!

Nevertheless, the disaster that was his loneliness in this vast office outbalanced his concerns about Smithers maybe coming up with silly ideas, if Burns were to re-employ him.

And at the end of the day, the two knew each other since Smithers' birth and as with every other problem they had faced together so far, they would also be able to handle this "_thing_" somehow.

Besides, Burns absolutely wanted to see how pathetic and miserable Smithers would creep and beg before his feet, if he'd just mention that he even had the slightest chance to come back. Yes, just the mere notion of that was amusing enough for Burns, to put a smile on his face for the whole remaining afternoon.

* * *

In trance, Waylon awoke from the dark depths of his nightmare and turned off the alarm clock.

He wasn't in the mood to think about what exactly the huge cemetery with all these hanged women and men meant for his future, and decided to accelerate the process of having breakfast. After five minutes, during which he had choked down a can of iced coffee in the fridge and two untoasted toasts with butter, he had stormed out of his apartment.

Nearly arriving at Moe's he already saw the silhouettes of the tavern owner and the corpulent drunkard from last night. With a smile, he slipped through the front door.

"Good morning!", he greeted.

Moe seemed surprised by that. "Yes, I think it's a good morning too", he replied with a shrug, "By the way, you can start immediately with cleaning the toilet walls, that should keep you busy for the next few hours, 'till the first costumers arrive"

"Yes, erm, of course", Waylon stammered, while Moe handed him over a mob and a bucket, both so dirty, that they'd probably make the walls only more filthy than they already were.

With caution Waylon put the utensils on the counter, and continued his sentence, "But, you see, I still have to discuss some business with you!"

"Business? What? With me?", Moe sounded incredulous and fascinated at the same time, "Then, uh, follow me into the office - And Barney, stay away from the beer!"

"But of course! You know, you can count on me", the addressee assured him and Smithers was surprised at how intellectual this sober Barney sounded - judging from his tone at least. The content of his words still remained the same ("Don't you worry while you're away, I only drink as much as you could commission") .

But somehow, it wasn't just the sobriety which set the boozer apart from his counterpart from last night. Waylon didn't know how to put it in words. Maybe it was just the blissful smile on his face, that was so extremely different from the dim smirk he had seen yesterday.

But that was all a minor matter. In the ladies room, alone with Moe, he finally put his cards on the table.

"I don't really want to work here - I want to use this job to get my old job back"

"And what the hell has this job to do with your intentions? And what the hell's that supposed to mean?", Moe asked him, confused and irritated.

"Very well", Smithers tried to stand more comfortable, but the fact that he was in the ladies room, was still scratching unpleasantly at the back of his head, "I do have a plan on how to get my job back", he finally said , "But you don't need to know the details. All I want is that you help me trick Mister Burns into believing that we are in love and together"

Moe opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

After a while, during which Smithers had made a hesitant step forward, the younger man finally decided to roll his eyes, snorting in slight disillusion, "I'll pay you", he added.

"Oh", Moe winced, as if Smithers had torn him from a particularly long train of thought, and bitter sarcasm filled his voice, "Oh yes, of course, that's the reason why I was so shocked ... because I wanted to get paid for it ... yes, that makes sense ... "

Moe could not believe it. From the sound of it, Smithers wanted to make Burns jealous. But that couldn't be, could it? And what was that nonsense with "no details" about. Since the dawn of time it has always been Smithers who was the one overly attached to his boss, and not the other way around. And besides, everyone in town knew that Burns never had, nor ever will have human feelings - how was this jealousy-scheme supposed to work, when Burns obviously didn't even care enough for Smithers, to not fire him?

_I'll pay you_, he had said.

Well. Moe could make the best of it, as long as this opportunity was open to him, right? After all, he then would at least have some kind of partner, he so eagerly wished for, if only for a limited time and a limited range of affection. And it wasn't beneath his dignity, to say the least, he had already underwent worse jobs and even much more worse partnerships.

And it was better than another night alone. Sure, spending the night with Barney yesterday, talking about life and beer and watching mindlessly TV, was lovely, almost too charming, but he had been looking for an honest relationship for far too long, and what could be more honest than a contract?

But, he also had to stand by his principles.

"Well, Smitty, fair enough", he said, and waited until the enthusiasm in the man's face before him had strengthened somewhat. Then he began, "And how much for ..., hm, let's say for a kiss, right in front of old Monty Burns, mind you - How much do I get for that? At a rough estimate?"

Smithers sighed inwardly. Judging from Moe's wide grin, he predicted some tough negotiations .


	4. Chapter 4

Although Barney wasn't entirely sure if he struck the right way, he was sure, following the ever-increasing stench of toxic waste and the increasing frequency of mutated forest creatures by the roadside, would _have_ to lead him into the right direction. After all, the nuclear power plant itself was hard to overlook, and soon he had made it to the parking lot where the guard at the barrier had long since fallen asleep.

Nevertheless, Barney drove as careful as possible over to the hut, lifted the barrier himself, got back into his car, and entered the power plant area.

"The boozehound howls ...!", he softly called, as he drove past a few inconspicuous elderberry bushes, "The boozehound howls!"

And almost immediately three adult men (at least judging from their biological age) rushed through the foliage and hopped directly into the car, one in the front, two in the back seat.

Not one second later Barney, Homer, Lenny and Carl had left the nuclear power plant far behind them.

"Friends, this is a new record! We fled exactly ten and a half minutes earlier from work!" Lenny called jubilantly from the back seat.

Homer nodded, "Now it's full speed ahead!"

"I can't wait!" Barney agreed.

"There it finally is!", Carl exclaimed, as Barney halted directly at Moe's.

Filled of energy, the four friends rose, maybe just about ten feet separated them from their temporary happiness, as they stopped suddenly.

A voice came through the stained glass windows and they could only associate it with words like _unpleasant_ and _direful_.

"What is Smithers doing here?", Homer murmured, in a slightly alienated tone.

"You know him?", Barney said.

"Yes. And you know him too?", asked Homer in response.

Quickly Barney told them all about last night.

"Ha, that's fascinating!", Carl laughed, "The guy who used to be our boss is going to wipe up our spilled beer ...!"

"I certainly won't miss that!", Homer cried with renewed enthusiasm and went ahead, as all four finally entered the bar, just to solidify completely, as they were barely over the threshold.

What they saw made their veins freeze and their breath caught.

Smithers had looked over to them just seconds before he hastily leaned over the counter to grab Moe by the shoulders and engage him in a very passionate kiss, as if both of them were intoxicated with some heavy aphrodisiacs - or as if the bar had finally served alcohol that wasn't watered down.

"Oh my God!"

Barney had finally spoken, what was on the tip of each of their tongues and within a matter of seconds, Moe tore himself away from Smithers. With a dead serious expression on his face, he formally began to explain, "Smithers here passed out after going to the beer cellar for the first time. I had to revive him"

"By kissing him deeply?", Homer interrupted in his trademark innocent, but tactless way, while Lenny and Carl were giving each other ambiguous glances and Barney represented the analogy of mental devastation.

Meanwhile, Smithers had pushed Moe away, "He didn't kiss me because I passed out", he revealed, "Moe and I are a couple"

"Oh my God", Barney repeated and slowly sat down on one of the stools. He felt a giddy foreboding about him having to pass out with the coming of the next revelation.

"I want you to tell all your colleagues at the nuclear power plant, I want you to tell your wifes, your friends and your cats and dogs!", Smithers went on, while everything inside him screamed at the thought of being forced to have his sexuality confessed in that way. But now, after he had dared to take a step on the brink, he had to jump over it, before he the ground beneath him began to crumble.

"_Everyone_?", Homer repeated, as if it were a foreign word. Carl asked the sensible question, that is to say, "Why?"

Moe opened his mouth to explain, but with a mere gesture Smithers silenced him. Again, he turned to the four friends, saying, "Just because. I know very well that this town likes to gossip a lot, and I wanted to clarify that you can tell what you saw whom you want. Moe and I stand by our feelings"

Smithers turned his head slightly, to inspect how the bartender dealt with the situation he caused.

"Isn't it true, Moe-Moe, my monstrous mouse?", He whispered with the falsest grin imaginable and as low-key as possible, behind his back, he pushed the last few dollars he had in his pocket towards the bartender, and stared at him insistently.

Luckily for Smithers, Moe's reaction didn't take very long to happen.

Frail, thin arms wrapped around him, as his supposed lover, cheered in a somewhat over the top voice performance: "It's true! I can't get enough of my sweet sycophantic Smitty!"

* * *

It took the whole rest of the evening, but then finally, Moe had managed, by the skin of his teeth and with thousands and thousands of promises made, to ensure his barflies that, without any doubt, that "Moe's" would never again in a lifetime become "Mo's".

But the restless feeling in the air still didn't subside, and when it was finally time for the men, to return home again to their better halves, once again, the only guy left in the bar, was the one man, who had none.

"Barney, you barely spoke anything today", Moe muttered and sounded even a little worried. He had sent Smithers down the beer cellar for dusting off, so Moe could take his usual dinner at the counter, consisting of a ready-made meal from a can and Duff.

During the evening, it had transpired to be very difficult for Smithers to get through his usual workload, which could be explained as the job of a handyman for everything. In regard of Smither's habit in even helping his former boss with eating, Moe had been able to successfully evade this certain quirk.

Barney, in the meantime, was focused on his own despair in not knowing what to despair over. Should he be sorry for himself or happy for Moe or was he even in love with Moe at all? Maybe it was just his loneliness which pushed him into things. He sighed, "Moe, why do you love this guy that everybody hates?"

"What? What are you sayin'?", Moe exclaimed, and spoke a bit quieter, as he continued, "You don't actually really believe that this school drama is serious business, do ya'?"

"What?"

"Smithers paid me for it. All he wants is to make Burns jealous and employ him again"

Barney was silent for quite a long while, in which he felt incredibly silly.

"That means you're free?"

It just gushed out of him and it seemed like his slight nausea caused this dam failure. Moe, in the meantime, choked on his dinner, and almost on the fork as well.

After a very extensive coughing fit, which got Barney only into more guilt, Moe was able to muster words that made sense again.

"Wha-hat did you say?", he asked hoarsely.

Barney hesitated, but he knew there was no turning back now . Moe had told him the truth about Smithers, now he had to pay back the same decency.

Barney sighed. It really was hard saying these things.

"Moe", he finally said, "I'm romantically interested in you"

There. This sounded much better than the old stupid "I love you". Too bad really, that Moe on the other hand didn't quite understand what he meant by that.

"Y'know, Homer told me the same thing on the day, when thought he would croak in a few hours - they all say the same when they have drunk too much - or when they are dying" Moe lowered his head thoughtfully. "How interesting. The only honest declarations of love, I've ever recieved, were always given to me in a drunken state. Also, you aren't dying, are you?"

"No! I'm not!" Barney cried out, "I love you!"

"I know. I like you too. But maybe your debt list from today's evening is right. You really drank too much. I should probably close. That Smithers workin' way too hard. I don't think I can handle overtime premium", Moe cawed, and it sounded bitter.

But Barney wasn't finished, "And why did you actually accepted his job? Isn't that even beneath _you_?"

"No", the bartender replied sullenly, "Not quite yet. And besides, I can gain two things out of this deal - play acted devoted affection of another humanoid creature and cash"

Barney gave up and exasperation clogged his throat. Give Moe one single shadow of a chance for money, and Angel-Moe, on his right shoulder, was immediately hanged. Now his only hope was that this game Smithers was playing would be completed as quickly as possible.

* * *

Meanwhile, Lenny and Carl were already on their way home, on foot, since Barney had shuttled them to Moe's with his car, and as always, they discussed together the events of the day.

"So slimey Smithers has finally come out ...!", Lenny mused, "If you consider how long he had already tagged along behind old Burns - Well, but then again, he was fired, which must have been terribly devastating for him - maybe even life-changing"

"Yes, it's a tragedy," Carl interrupted sarcastically, and with a slight kick a Duff can flew over the curb before it rolled across the street to come to a standstill on the other side, "Can't we talk about the new Miss Springfield? "

"Of course", Lenny immediately agreed, in his eternal bliss, "But didn't you too notice, that Barney behaved a bit strange as well?"

Carl looked up from the floor and directly into Lenny's wide-open eyes. "Strange ...? No, I didn't notice ... "

"He didn't talk all night, not even with Homer", Lenny said, and added mildly offended, "Hey, Carl ... are you even listening to me?"

The other man looked slightly bewildered, at both comments, and finally replied, somewhat wearily, "I don't really know", but corrected himself, seeing Lenny's increasingly worried expression and said, "Okay, okay, I do listen to you! But how about we just cut to the cake and talk about the obvious elephant in the room ... ?"

"Good idea, Carl", Lenny called, relieved, "I do not understand how Smithers could even be slightly attracted to-" he paused, suddenly not able anymore, to find the right words, so he started anew, "Y'know, Smithers and Moe ... It just doesn't seem all too probable"

Carl nodded knowingly, "We have never seen Smithers with any other man than Mister Burns - how is it that he just gave up like this?"

"Well - as I said, he was fired", Lenny pointed out, "That said, I wonder ... Did he say _how_ _exactly_ he got fired?"

"No", came the short reply, "I think Smithers probably had already planned out to tell Burns the truth, and before he did it, he may have cleverly created a plan B together with Moe"

"Do you think so?", Lenny sounded uncertain, "Smithers was a jerk sometimes, admittedly, at least according to Homer, but I don't think he would date Moe just out of ... just so that he could, well ... "

"Come on", Carl interrupted impatiently, albeit a bit reluctantly, "We both know that any relationship that Moe was ever engaged in, was purely based on pity - No one would ever take him for another reason, or at least, would call attention to him for another reason. Moe is without a doubt, the one we should congratulate. The only one I pity is Smithers, for his poor choice, but at least they seemed to be happy"

Lenny's eyes suddenly lit up again, "Yes, you see, that's what I was getting at!"

"Explain to me, at what exactly you where getting at, Lenny?"

"Well, Barney didn't seem happy about it at all"

"And what are you getting at now?"

Lenny roamed the house walls they were passing, as he absent-mindedly looked for the right answer .

"I think Barney has got reasons to drink more again lately", Lenny began hesitantly, "I think he has become slightly clingy to Moe "

Carl stayed silent for a while, and seemed to have to repeat the words a few times in his thoughts, before he finally sighed.

"That would be really awful for Barney, I guess ... But honestly - I don't think that we should jump to conclusions like that, just because Moe has turned out to be bisexual. Barney may have problems with his old girlfriend again or he just likes booze and that's all"

Then something typical for Carl happened. He no longer looked Lenny in the eye. He tightened the buttons on his jacket and quickened his pace .

"I think I'm going to call it a night. See you tomorrow at work, Lenny!", he mumbled incomprehensible and hasty, and finally disappeared around the next house's corner from Lenny's view, before he could even say goodbye.

For a while Lenny wandered alone through the streets and even considered to stop at Moe's again. But there he would most likely only come across Smithers and Moe and their completely perfect relationship.

And slowly it became clearer and clearer to him, that he just didn't have the desire to crash in on the company of such a match made in heaven, and would probably never get this kind of desire, if he wouldn't finally follow Smithers ' example and grow a spine.

Because the friendship between him and Carl was perhaps even more important than the possible romance that he hoped could be buried underneath them.


End file.
